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  Submission Name: The Death of Life
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| Author: | doppelganger | | ASL Info: | 19/f/your brain
| | Elite Ratio: | 1.66 - 27/198/141 | | Words: | 120 |
| | | Class/Type: | Poetry/Misc | | Total Views: | 139 | | Average Vote: | No vote yet. | | Bytes: | 958 |
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Description:
Okay then, this is attempt one out of five for a creative writing assignment. Our task is to write an extended metaphor poem in blank verse. I couldn't think of anything today in class so I just brainstormed and came up with five potential concepts.
This one is a plant, giving up on the sun and dying. It represents the laziness of readers today, how some just desire the deeper meaning to be handed to them on silver platters. What happened to looking further, beyond the words on the page? That is the sun and most have grown weary of it and retire to simpler means of indulging in literature; the simpler things is the dirt in this case.
Yeah, I like the concept but I don't know if it's original enough. I always get a 9 out of 10 on the originality score on my poetry in there. Everything else is 10, even when I wrote a poem about beauty personified into something surreal, falling in love with genius-personified, them unable to touch because the genius hardly ever gets what he desires; beauty is so close yet so far away always, then these dancers come in and foreshadow the death of beauty and they are "outside influences" messing up genius' mind, then a doppelganger emerges from behind genius and kisses beauty and she explodes, leaving nothing but glitter (representing her surreality), genius wakes up and realizes what happened and goes to the hole where she dug up from (representing the birth of beauty) and shoots himself, but then a glittery hand reaches up, genius finally became the thing that beauty was... the death of the attempting genius and the birth of true genius. Tell me that's not original! >.< Jeez.
Anyway yeah. This is attempt 1. I'm not too fond of it but yeah. |
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The Death of Life
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A leafy child,
Fetus bound to the ground,
With hues of pure happiness.
It shakes hands with
Nutriment;
Drinking up the sunlight
That golden, gilded light
The milk from a
Mother, leading to
Growth.
It dances the life-waltz
With oxygen
To the tune of
Hopes and dreams
Plucked from the harp of
Fae in the wood.
The notes caresses
Its being as
The infant undulates,
Immersed in pure
Pleasure;
That heated, heavenly light.
With a sigh, it grows
Weary,
This being of
The earth.
No longer does it
Desire to partner
With Apollo.
Leaving limbs unstretched,
Poised to sweep the
Moister desert,
The newly introduced celled
Thing throws needs
To the weeds surrounding;
Skin fading,
Soul withering,
It perishes . |
Submitted on 2008-01-26 12:45:17 Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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